He's slowly making progress

Peter took another step forward. He was almost within reach of the hypnotist now. He could see the devil mask turning toward him. The man’s head tilted slightly, curious.

Before Peter could close the last bit of distance, a loud moan came from across the room. He turned. Rose was still on the table, her body arching as one of the men shoved his fingers deep into her pussy. Her mouth hung open, her eyes rolled back. Another man leaned over her and pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her hard. She kissed back, sloppy and eager, her body writhing under the hands of the strangers around her.

Peter’s stomach twisted. He looked back at the hypnotist, but the man was already moving.

The hypnotist clapped his hands once, sharp enough to cut through the noise. He turned toward the remaining volunteers and spread his arms.

“Well now, folks, I rarely get men volunteering for these things. Let’s see what we have here.”

He stepped over to the person furthest in the line. Peter recognized him right away. Omar. The host of the party. Wrapped head to toe in white bandages that left gaps across his chest and arms, the classic mummy costume. Omar stood stiff, eyes blank like the others.

The man in the purple mask lifted the mic. “Name?”

Omar’s voice came out flat. “Omar Rahman.”

“Anyone can tell who you’re supposed to be,” the hypnotist said, smiling under the mask. He turned a little toward the crowd. “But here’s a fun fact most people don’t know. Back in the old days, if two people really loved each other and died at the same time, they’d mummify them together. Bound them in the same wrappings so they’d stay locked in an eternal embrace forever. Romantic, right?”

Peter had never heard anything like that. He kept moving, one slow step after another across the carpet. He was closer now. Close enough that he could see the bandages on Omar’s chest rising and falling.

Something bumped into his side. He turned his head. Vivienne stood there, disheveled. Her black lace dress was crooked, one strap slipped off her shoulder, lipstick smeared. She looked at him with those half-lidded amber eyes and smiled, hungry.

“Peterrrrrr,” she said, voice still carrying that low vampire edge. “You smell… full.”

He tried to step past her. “Vivienne, stop. I need to–”

She didn’t listen. Her hands went to his belt and yanked it open before he could finish. His pants dropped to his thighs. She dropped to her knees right there on the carpet, ignoring the way he grabbed at her shoulder. She leaned in, took a long sniff along his cock and made a soft, pleased sound.

“Rich,” she murmured. Then she opened her mouth and took him in, sucking slow and deep like she had with the others. Peter’s breath hitched. He tried to push her head away, but his arms still wouldn’t cooperate the way he wanted. She just moaned around him and kept going, determined to make him cum in her mouth.

On the stage, the hypnotist had already covered Omar’s face with his gloved hand.

Omar’s body went slack. The man didn’t bother whispering this time. He spoke loud enough for the people nearby to hear.

“You need to find your soulmate. The one meant to be bound with you. When you wake, you will search for her and wrap her inside your bandages so the two of you stay locked together forever.”

He snapped his fingers in front of Omar’s face. Omar’s eyes opened. They looked different now, hungry, focused. He didn’t wait for anything else. He turned and scanned the crowd, then took off running between the people, bandages flapping.

Peter watched him cut through the room fast. Omar’s head moved side to side like he was searching for something specific. He locked onto a girl near the edge of the carpet, a hot blonde in a short green pixie dress with little fake wings strapped to her back and glitter on her cheeks. She was laughing at something someone said when Omar reached her. He didn’t slow down. He hit her from the side and took her down onto the floor in one hard tackle. She yelped, wings bending under her as she hit the carpet.